My work moves between architecture, sculpture, functional objects, and jewelry. Across these forms, I return to a persistent set of questions: how does an object hold weight, create tension, register time, or carry meaning as it shifts in scale?

I am interested in the duality between stasis and flux—between what can be designed and what must be left to chance. This began in my undergraduate installation work, where I used water as both material and condition: something that can be contained and directed, but never completely controlled. That same tension continues in my work with concrete. I can determine the mold, geometry, sequence, and boundaries of a pour, yet pigment moves, voids form, surfaces erode, and separate batches meet in ways that cannot be fully predicted. The finished object becomes a record of both intention and material behavior.

My architectural training informs the work through structure, proportion, balance, joints, and the way an object meets the body or occupies space. The forms are often geometric, but they are not purely formal. They are shaped by compression, interruption, accumulation, and transformation—the same forces that act on buildings, landscapes, bodies, and relationships.

Material contrast is equally important. Polished silver meets rough concrete; brilliant gold sits against oxidized metal; rigid frameworks hold traces of liquid movement. I am drawn to the point where seemingly opposing qualities coexist: weight and lightness, precision and irregularity, permanence and change.

The jewelry began with pieces made for my wife and gradually developed into a broader body of wearable sculpture. Concrete, silver, gold, and oxidized metals are treated not simply as precious or industrial materials, but as carriers of memory, use, and time. Reduced to the scale of the body, architectural forms become intimate, movable, and personal.

The larger concrete works and functional objects follow the same logic. Some begin with careful planning; others emerge through casting, erosion, failure, repair, or the behavior of the material itself. Across the practice, I aim to create objects that feel deliberate without concealing their making—works that exist somewhere between artifact, ornament, structure, landscape, and sculpture.